I run through fog that never clears,
With ticking clocks and rising fears.
A train departs, a gate swings wide—
And just in time, I slip inside.

Again, the dream resets its page,
A loop of hope, a quiet cage.
Each path I chase, the ending bends,
But somehow, still—I make amends.

The flight I miss becomes delay,
A stranger helps, I find my way.
The doors once shut, now open slow,
As if the world says, "Go on—go."

I wake before the journey ends,
But carry with me signs it sends:
That though I doubt and lose my pace,
There’s always time, there’s always grace.